(Over)Protective
by R4zzled4zzle
Summary: Ginny woke up to a room full of feathers. With a jolt, she looked down at her hand. Her wedding ring was gone. What the hell had Harry done with her ring this time? Last month, she had caught him trying to place a tracking charm on it. The month before it was a Auto-Apparition charm. Whatever next? Epilogue compliant, Post-Hogwarts HP/GW - a drabble that might become more!
1. Chapter 1

Ginny woke up to a room full of feathers. With a jolt, she looked down at her hand. Her wedding ring was gone.

She peered blearily around the room. Harry always did get too hot at night and had yet again opened the windows. The bloody owls had gotten in for the third time that week. The letters of congratulations and charmed confetti littered the floor under a thick layer of feathers of all colours and sizes, lit by the soft dawn light.

It was only a couple of days since they had announced the pregnancy to the public and the letters had flooded in. Harry's celebrity had yet to die down, even five years after the war and everyone wanted to celebrate.

Merlin's hat, what the hell had Harry done with her ring this time? Last month, she had caught him trying to place a tracking charm on it. The month before it was a Auto-Apparition charm, an experimental spell that would automatically apparate the wearing of the ring to wherever he was. The only reason she found out is because Ron had mysteriously Apparated into her living room, splinched and howling. Withholding pain potions had loosened his tongue, despite the warning glare her husband had tried to throw his way.

Maybe telling Harry about the pregnancy was a mistake, she thought. Perhaps she should have used a concealment charm on her belly until she went into labour and tossed the little sprog into his arms with so little warning. His overprotective nature had reached new heights. And it was suffocating her. To think had another six months of it.

"I can't believe he's done it again!" Ginny leapt from the bed and sprinted down the stairs from their second floor bedroom. She leapt agily over the last creaky step as she reached the ground floor careful not to wake the portrait of Walburga Black. They still hadn't been able to unstick her from the wall.

That's another thing Ginny had to talk to Harry about, this Slytherin den of a house.

She raced down into the kitchen, expecting him to be sitting at the kitchen table, tinkering away with her ring. In fact, he wasn't there. Ginny let out a frustrated snarl and kicked a wooden chair over.

Shuffling feet appeared from the tiny cupboard at the back of the kitchen. "What can Kreacher get for Mistress? Is Mistress hungry?"

"Oh, Kreacher. Sorry for waking you up. I was wondering if you knew where Harry was."

"Master is upstairs in the attic, Mistress."

"Ugh," she moaned. Running a couple of flights was fine, but climbing up six flights of stairs was really too much. Besides, she wanted to catch him out and he would surely hear her coming.

An idea occurred to her, and she smiled. "Actually Kreacher, there is something you could do to help me."

"Of course Mistress, anything."

"Apparate me into the attic."

Ginny smirked at the way her husband jumped at the loud pop of her appearance. He scrambled for his wand and pointed it where she had appeared. Her time as Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies was surely not wasted. She had already moved several feet to the right before Harry had even swung his wand around.

"Hello, husband."

With a hand clutched to his chest, he panted, "Hello, wife."

"What are you up to at this very early hour?"

Harry immediately blushed and shuffled rolls of parchment on his makeshift workbench until his left hand was buried underneath his scribbled notes. "Nothing important, just something for work."

"Is that so? I didn't realise the Auror department had need of your wife's wedding ring."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Robards hasn't asked for your ring. I, erm, I just wanted to give it a bit of a clean, that's all. You did bake some of your delicious bread yesterday and I was worried you had some dough stuck in it."

"Potter, don't you dare lie to me," said Ginny, pointing a finger in warning at him. "You know I always cast an anti-sticking charm on my hands before I start kneading." She walked to him and put her hands on his chest. He couldn't help but flinch. She really was terrifying when she was upset.

He sighed. "I was trying to find a way to put a shield charm on it. I asked George how they made the Shield Hats but I think he might have not given me all the instructions." He lifted his hand. "I put it on but I'm experiencing some side effects." His left hand flashed in multitude of different colours, from red, to blue, to purple, to green. The finger he had put the ring on was swollen and flashing the most vibrantly.

"Oh, Harry. You blithering idiot! We have our interview with the Daily Prophet today. Take the ring off."

"I can't, my hand is too swollen."

"Have you tried a Shrinking Charm?"

"Yes. But that's what caused all the colours." Harry pushed his glasses back up his nose. He ran a hand through his hair. "I've tried loads. Nothing seems to work."

"We'll have to find a way to fix this before ten o'clock." Ginny sighed.

"Or we could just cancel?" he said, hopefully.

"You can bat your eyelashes at me all you like, dearest. We have rescheduled our appointment several times already."

"I know. I just really hate talking to reporters."

Ginny sat on his lap and wrapped her arms gently around him. "I know you do. But it's not about you this time, it's about the baby." She kissed his cheek and leaned her head against his. "You have a famous wife with fans to please. And if my meeting next week goes well, I'll be one of those reporters too."

"You'll be nothing like them! Pushy, yes. But always honest. I don't believe you would ever post the same nonsense that awful woman did."

Skeeter. Ginny narrowed her eyes. If there was ever anyone who could ruin a perfectly lovely day, it was that woman. There's nothing quite like an unfounded rumour to spoil a girl's wedding day.

"Let's not talk about that wretched woman." Ginny stood , pulling Harry up with her. "Show me the spell you used, maybe we can solve this by working together."

They couldn't. Thank Godric Hermione was an early riser.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione huffed in frustration. "Did you learn nothing from working with Dumbledore, Harry? He put a ring on without checking first that it was ok. It would have killed him eventually had Snape not done it first." She reached across the kitchen table to grasp his hand.

"Look, the swelling's gone down and the colour is almost back to normal! Don't you think you are overreacting a little here, Hermione?"

Ginny grinned. More than twelve years of friendship was not enough to teach Harry never to suggest Hermione Granger was overreacting. She walked over to the sink with their mugs, now empty of tea.

Harry continued, "The ring was a Horcrux, cursed by Voldemort. This is my wife's ring, that I was trying to charm-"

"-with a spell given to you by George Weasley." Hermione leveled an expectant stare at him, knowing he would eventually see how utterly stupid he had been.

Harry grinned sheepishly. "OK, so I was a bit hasty. But nothing life threatening has happened!"

"Yet," said Ginny. "You could very easily have lost that finger. You know George has little regard for safety since… Well, you know." Ginny blinked back the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. It was still difficult to voice the loss they all felt, even seven years on.

Hermione stood. "Alright then. You are curse-free, excepting your lack of common sense of course. Go get yourselves ready for this interview."

Harry stomped out of the kitchen and up the stairs, muttering under his breath the whole way up. Ginny watched him leave, feeling exceptionally satisfied. "Hopefully that'll finally put an end to all his ridiculous ideas."

Hermione snorted. "Unlikely. You know he'll just find another way. He is nothing if not persistent. He'll just find another way."

"Oh Merlin, I hope not! He is always getting in my way and fussing over me. It's unbearable, Hermione. He treats me like I am some fragile thing, ready to break at any moment." Ginny groaned and pressed her forehead to the table. "He knows me better than this."

Hermione stretched to put a comforting hand on Ginny's arm. "You are one of the toughest women, people, that I have ever met. I know you are not as delicate as Harry is treating you now. You grew up with more older brothers than should be allowed. It is a miracle, frankly, that you are as sane as you are. But Harry did not grow up with a family."

"Why are you making me feel guilty?"

"That is not my intention. But you are the first real family Harry has had since he was a year old. It was taken away from him then. I imagine he is terrified of losing his family again. He is desperate to keep you safe."

"Ugh, you're right. I guess I could be more patient with him. But he really is driving me nuts with all his experimenting. I'm worried that he's is going to hurt himself."

Hermione smiled. "That is entirely likely. Our husbands really are a lot of work, aren't they?"

"Yours more than mine," Ginny smiled back. "Do you think you could keep an eye on Harry? He's not going to stop this nonsense any time soon."

"I'll do one better," said Hermione. "I'll give him the spell he needs."

* * *

Later that morning, Ginny found herself practically dragging Harry into the small cafe on Diagon Alley where they had agreed to meet the reporter from the Prophet.

The interview went well enough in her opinion. Harry cringed frequently at the gushing compliments the insincere reporter gave him, all in the hopes of flattering her way to getting juicier gossip.

After their interview, the Potters followed their usual Saturday morning routine of brunch in Muggle London. They wandered slowly hand in hand on their way to their favourite place on Liverpool Road and got a table by the fireplace.

Ginny leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms over her head. "Well, that wasn't too bad, was it?"

"It was awful, Ginny. You cannot possibly deny that," Harry said, opening his menu. "I need no one to make jokes about the 'working order of my tackle', no matter how funny they think it is." He dropped his menu. "You don't think she'll print that, do you?"

Ginny snorted. "I don't know." She picked up her own menu, mostly to have something to do with her hands; she knew exactly what she wanted to eat. "Darling, you really have to get used to the press. They won't go away any time soon."

Harry sighed deeply. He snatched a piece of bread from the basket on the table and started ripping it into smaller pieces.

"Especially when you have such a famous wife. As a celebrity, people will want to know all sorts of things about me including, well… you know. "

"Is that so? Personally, I don't see what all the fuss is about." Harry grinned.

She hummed in response. Suddenly, a piece of bread flew across the table and hit her on the nose. "Ow!"

"You're certainly no Seeker."

"I'd be careful if I were you," she smiled slyly at him. "I may not have used a Bat-Bogey Hex in a while, but I still remember how to do it."

Harry chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. "Forgive me, Oh Glorious One! I'll back off."

A waiter approached the table and took their orders. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, listening to the crackling fire and the beginnings of pattering rain on the windows. The food arrived, and the steaming scents started Ginny's stomach rumbling. She had always had a healthy appetite but she just couldn't seem to stop eating since she got pregnant. The snacks that she had wolfed down during the interview had barely put a dent in her hunger.

"I don't trust that reporter though."

Ginny looked up, her fork most of the way to her mouth loaded with omelet. Harry hadn't started eating yet and was just pushing his food around in circles. "Why not?"

"She's Betty Braithwaite." Harry rolled his eyes when all he got from Ginny was a blank stare. "She is the one who interviewed Skeeter about the book she wrote about Dumbledore. The article was almost as disgusting as the book."

"Ah, I see why you are a little hesitant then. I guess we'll just have to hope for the best. We didn't say anything that could put us in an awkward situation."

"She's a reporter, Ginny. It doesn't matter what we say or how careful we are. The truth can always be twisted."

"And if I get the job I interview for next week, I'll be one too."

"That's true," Harry looked at her thoughtfully, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'll have to be extra careful and attentive to my beautiful wife."

Ginny winked at him. "You got that right."


	3. The Interview

Ginny nervously smoothed her slightly sweating hands over her newest set of robes. She had agonised for hours that morning deciding between dressing up or keeping it a casual, as she imagined a sports reporter for the Daily Prophet might be. She had ended up hedging her bets and settling for a happy medium. She took a deep breath and stepped into the offices of the Daily Prophet, grumbling inwardly at the heels that Hermione had insisted she wear. Ginny had no idea how Hermione managed to wear them everyday _and_ run around at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Ginny was immediately assaulted by raucous activity. Workers wearing robes with the _Prophet_ crest pinned to their lapels raced in and out of the entrance, followed by a swarm of owls who apparently did not have an entrance of their own.

"Open a window, anyone?" Ginny thought to herself.

She spotted a blonde witch sitting at a desk, chewing enthusiastically on what appeared to be some of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum as she picked at her nails with a cheap, embellished crow feather quill.

"Welcome to the Prophet, how can I help you today?"

Ginny decided against the smile and the fake pleasantries as the blonde receptionist hadn't even bothered looking up at her.

"I'm here to see Kikis Trecus."

"I'm afraid Madam Trecus is unavailable for the next hour as she will be conducting an interview."

 _No kidding_. "Isn't that a lucky coincidence then, as I happen to be here for the very same interview."

At that, the receptionist looked up. She had large blue eyes and thick long lashes. A shame, Ginny thought, that her eyes pointed outward.

Ginny waggled her fingers at the witch and said, "I'm ready for my interview and I hate being late. Would kindly show me the way to Madam Trecus's office?"

"Yes of course, Miss…"

"Mrs." Ginny said. "Mrs. Potter."

The receptionist's eyes became impossibly larger. She stood up hastily. "Of course, Mrs Potter. Right this way."

The witch led Ginny deeper into the _Prophet_ offices, and pointed out departments as they passed them. "That is where the lead reporter would normally sit. She is currently at the Ministry for a Wizengamot hearing on a new law. Something to do with werewolf rights."

 _Its today! I forgot to wish her good luck._ She would need to check in with Hermione to see how it all went.

"And over there is where the advice columnists work. Legal, Personal, Medical and Magical." Ginny looked to where the receptionist was pointing and saw a group of older, shabby looking old witches holding teacups saucers while floating teapots poured tea. One witch, dressed in what Ginny would describe as _dressed-in-the-dark chic_ was reading aloud from a parchment. Her voice got steadily louder and higher pitched until she and her listeners burst into raucous laughter.

"That is Grizel Hurtz, the Advice Columnist for Personal Problems. She reads out the funnier letters we get to her friends from other departments."

"That's awful," Ginny said.

The blonde shrugged. "I wouldn't tell her that, though. That witch knows a nasty Hex or two."

 _So do I._

"Here we are. This is the office of our Senior Sports Editor, who the Quidditch Correspondent would report to." She knocked on the dark wooden door with a couple of efficient raps of the knuckles and walked in. "Mrs Potter to see you, Madam Trecus."

Ginny followed her in. The office was a labyrinth of stacks of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , _Which Broomstick?_ and piles of worn looking quaffles. The walls were covered in posters and photographs of various players and teams, some long since forgotten. Old broomsticks mounted on brass plaques also hung on the walls, while miniature brooms floated midair, much the same as the the candles in the Great Hall at Hogwarts.

"Ginny! How wonderful to see you." She lowered her gaze from the ceiling as Kikis Trecus made her way from a small desk between the piles of what Hermione would definitely, and quite wrongly, call rubbish.

"Kikis, how are you?" They hugged warmly. "We missed you at our last match, where have you been hiding?"

"Here, as always. It's been tough not having a Quidditch Correspondent these last few weeks. I can't get everything done at once, no matter how many quills I spell to write for me. They inevitably mix all the articles up. I had a quill meant to write about the latest on the French Quidditch league making references to the newest Japanese Seeker, the article a different quill should have been writing. It's been a nightmare, I tell you!"

Kikis waved off the blonde witch who was still standing by the door. "Have you been Stunned, my girl? Run along and get us some tea please. And for the love of Merlin, don't put any sugar in mine!" She waved her wand and levitated one of the closer piles of books revealing a red leather armchair. Ginny sat as Kikis revealed yet more hidden furniture opposite her.

"So I noticed that you were a reserve for your last match against the Caerphilly Catapults."

"Yes, I had just let them know about the pregnancy and they refused to let me play," Ginny grumbled. "Didn't matter in the end, we still won. Did you see that amazing shot that we got in about 20 minutes into the game?"

"It was impressive. Not nearly as impressive as the _Dionysus Dive_ you did the match before though. I can understand why they don't want a pregnant Chaser if you regularly jump from your broom for a shot. It wouldn't do for Mrs Potter to lose her baby."

Ginny rubbed her belly, still unfamiliar with the tiny fluttering movements she could feel. "I guess so. It's just hard to get used to all the extra fuss. I'm quite happy without being centre of attention and getting on with it. All the pampering and protection, ugh!"

"Go easy on him," Kikis said, smiling softly. "It's his first child too."

"I wasn't talking about Harry."

"If you say so," Kikis replied simply. Two sharp knocks from the door announced the receptionists arrival. She walked in floating a tea service.

"Ah, the good stuff. Thank you Josefina. That will be all. Close the door, girl!"

With a squeak, the receptionist returned and closed the door with a little too much vigour. Clouds of dust fell from the bookshelves and brooms. Kikis grimaced. "She is utterly useless that girl. Meant to do some basic organisation and greet visitors but she can barely complete the most basic of tasks. If she wasn't Barnabas's granddaughter she would have been dismissed weeks ago."

Kikis reached for her coffee. "So when can you start?"

Ginny coughed as the coffee she was sipping at that moment happened to find itself in her nose. "I beg your pardon?"

"How much notice do you need to give the Harpies? Though I imagine that with your pregnancy, they will already have their suspicions."

"I've already told them that I will be leaving. I am free to leave whenever I'm ready."

"In that case, Ginny, welcome to the _Prophet_."


	4. What's in a name

As Ginny left the Daily Prophet office, she spied a flashing headline from a pile of papers. "The Potters announce their first pregnancy!" A picture of Harry with his arms around her waist, and Ginny's hand over her barely-there bump took up most of the front page.

Ginny grabbed a copy with a wave to Josefina (I am an employee now, after all! I should be able to help myself) and walked out into the sunlight. This is going to be interesting…

 _ **The Potters discuss their first pregnancy!**_

 _This reporter received a very mysterious message from the Potters just a few short weeks ago requesting a meeting. There had already been much speculation, then delight, when Ginny Potter, née Weasley, was put on reserve for a Quidditch match against the Caerphilly Catapults, so it was no difficult decision to jump at the opportunity and arrange a meeting as soon as possible!_

 _We met at a quaint cafe in Wizarding London. The Potters walked in, holding hands. Time, it seems, has not dampened their love for one another. Mrs Potter was truly glowing. I asked her immediately how the pregnancy was going._

 _"It has been wonderful, Betty. The hardest thing was keeping it a secret for so long, but we decided that it was time to let everyone know."_

 _"And why did you keep it quiet for so long? You must have known how simply delighted the entire Wizarding Britain would be."_

 _At this point, the young Mrs Potter glanced at her husband and put her hand over his and gave it a squeeze. "We wanted to enjoy it ourselves privately for a while."_

 _Harry Potter, The Chosen One and the Saviour of Wizarding Britain, famously guards his privacy. This reporter has certainly had some difficulties getting an interview. Throughout the conversation I had with Mrs Potter, Harry remained quiet, listening intently while his wife spoke. How poignant this moment must be for him, to finally have a family when his own was so cruelly taken away from him at the tender age of one. Naturally, I had to ask how he felt about not having any family to share in his joy._

 _"Nonsense," he said. Those green eyes of his really are startling. "I have learned that family isn't blood, and blood isn't family. Ginny is my wife; I have brothers in Ron and George Weasley, parents in Arthur and Molly, and Hermione is my sister. What more do I need?"_

 _"Do you not wish you could share this with your parents though, Harry? And perhaps with your godfather?" Harry Potter's godfather was the infamous Sirius Black, wrongly incarcerated in Azkaban for many years for the murder of Peter Pettigrew, one holder of the Order of Merlin, First Class. Pettigrew's award was naturally revoked once Black's innocence was confirmed by authorities and posthumously awarded to Black in the autumn of 1998 for his work with the Order of the Phoenix before his untimely death on the 18th June, 1996 at the age of 36._

 _"Of course I wish Sirius and my parents were alive! What a ridiculous question."_

 _Mrs Potter, sensing his distress, put a calming hand on his shoulder. They then looked deeply into each others' eyes with a tenderness that, I am not ashamed to admit, brought tears to my eyes. How wonderful it is, dear readers, that our Saviour has someone to take care of him. He has suffered so much trauma at such a young age, it is no surprise that he looks to his wife as his own hero, who is helping him recover from the horror that was his childhood. Naturally, you must be wondering how he is doing._

 _"Harry is doing great, Betty. Everyone in Wizarding Britain has scars from the war. The rest of us are no different."_

 _"Would you not say, Ginny, that he has perhaps had more to deal with than others?"_

 _At this, Harry spoke up. "No, I would not say that. Lots of families have been hurt, people have been lost."_

 _And with that, readers, we finished our coffees and parted ways. We wish them luck on this great new journey that they have started._

* * *

Ginny gleefully watched Harry read the paper at the kitchen table, already anticipating his reaction.

"What a load of troll dung! I can't believe she would make up such nonsense. ' _Startling green eyes_ ', Merlin's saggy pants! And ' _they looked deeply into each other's eyes_ ', for the love of Godric. It sounds like a tacky romance novel your mum secretly likes to read." He then started a stream of words which definitely wouldn't have made the printed page.

Ginny walked around the kitchen table and put her arms around him from behind, putting her chin on his shoulder. "So are you saying that I'm not your hero, dear husband?"

Harry sighed and leaned his head against hers. "Ginny, you know how much you've helped me the last few years. I wouldn't be half as functional if it wasn't for you. I'm just fed up of being portrayed as some tragic hero with a tragic past."

"I know." Ginny planted a soft kiss where his neck met his shoulders. "Don't let it get to you. The people who know and love you won't believe a word of this balderdash."

"I suppose," Harry sighed.

"Now," Ginny said moving to wave her wand at the teapot which had been whistling softly on the stove. "Aren't you going to ask me how my day was?"

"Oh of course! How was your interview? Are they going to give you the job?"

"They already have! I start immediately."

"Well done, Gin. That's brilliant to hear. Of course they want you on board. They'd be crazy not to hire you." He turned and pulled her onto his lap, touching his forehead to hers. Ginny closed her eyes, lost in her thoughts. Ginny carded her fingers through his hair, twisting the black strands. Giving up Quidditch would have been hard, but she did it gladly for her family, for her unborn child.

He had always shied away from attention. She wondered if it had anything to do with growing up with those awful Muggles, sorry excuses for family that they were. He kept his head down and avoided their attention as much as possible, for any attention they did give him was undoubtedly negative.

Harry's shoulders shuddered as he exhaled deeply. Ginny opened her eyes and saw glistening tears rolling down her husband's cheeks. She wiped them away gently and brushed her lips on his cheeks.

"What's wrong?"

He opened his eyes. "I'm scared. No, terrified." Ginny tugged a wayward lock of hair out of his eyes and waited. His eyes met hers then, and he said, "I can't lose you. I can't lose our child. I finally have a family and I just can't shake the feeling that it's all going to go horribly wrong. I don't want him to grow up like I did."

She held his gaze. There was nothing to say that she hadn't already said to him. He went on. "We are already older my parents ever got the chance to be. Isn't that strange?"

"It is a little." She leaned back to get a better look at his face. "I don't know what to tell you, Harry. We are going to be fine. We are not in danger. We are happy, healthy and safe." She placed her hands either side of his face. "I love you, Harry. I won't let anything happen to this family."

He finally grinned at that. "My hero. What would I do without you and your deadly hexes?"

"You'll never have to find out." She gave him a deep but quick kiss. "I have something to ask you."

"Oh?"

"So you think it's a boy?"

He frowned. "When did I say that?"

"You said you didn't want him to grow up like you did. You said him."

"I guess I did. I don't know why, but whenever I imagine our child, its a boy who looks a little like me, a lot like you."

"As long as he doesn't take after his uncle's when it comes to mischief, it'll be fine."

Harry chuckled. "I don't think we're going to be able to avoid it love, his grandfather was a Marauder after all."

"Godric! You're right." Ginny groaned, running her hands down her face. "I can already imagine all the owls we get from Hogwarts. It's official. We're screwed."

Harry gave her a tight squeeze. "I'm sure we'll be able to manage. If Molly Weasley was able to deal with the twins, and Ron,"

"And you," Ginny said.

"And me, then I'm fairly sure that we can handle this one."

"I'm not so sure I'll be able to. I already know you are going to spoil them rotten and go easy on them. I think vanquishing Voldemort himself was easier than this is going to be."

"Well that did only take seven years of my life and quite literally killed me. This is for life." He planted a big wet kiss onto her cheek and said, "And I couldn't be happier."

"Right, enough smooching!" Ginny swatted him away even as he tried to plant even more wet kisses on her face. "Let me get back to cooking our dinner. Ron and Hermione will be here in an hour."

"Fine!" Harry let her stand up. She walked over to the stove and continued cooking her stew, beef bourguignon, which had quickly turned into Harry's favourite meal after they got married. Harry stood up and went to stand beside her, inhaling the smell of the stock and the bacon. He

"Speaking of trouble makers, I was thinking about something."

"Oh, dear. That sounds ominous," Ginny said as she turned.

"Woman, put that weapon away!" he said, pointing at the wooden spoon she held in her hand.

Rolling her eyes, Ginny put the spoon in the pot. She raised her hands. "See, all weapon free now. What's up?"

Harry took her hands in his and rubbed his thumbs over the tops of her hands. He stared at where they were connected and said in a small voice, "If it is a boy, would you like to call him 'Fred'?"

Ginny blinked in surprise.

"I was thinking maybe Frederick James, or James Frederick."

A pool of tears gathered in her eyes. "Oh you beautiful, beautiful man." She slid her arms around him.

"So, you like it then? You like the name?"

"I do, very much." She smiled and wiped an escaped tear from her cheek. "But I don't think we should use it."

"What?" He looked confused. "But you like the name."

"I love that you thought of it. You are everything I ever hoped for." She sighed. "I don't think we should use the name 'Fred'. I think that his name should be for George's child."

"Oh," Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I didn't even think of that."

"I know you didn't. But it's okay." She poked him in the stomach. "I had a different idea for a boy's name."

Harry bit her affectionately on the nose, ignoring her squeak of surprise.

"Don't bite my nose, savage! Anyways, I do like the name 'James' and I think we should use it. But the second name should be 'Sirius'".

Harry grinned at her. "Are you sure? There's no one's names you'd like to use?"

"No boys' names that's for sure. If we have a girl, we can name her after… I dunno, Luna maybe."

"That's perfect actually!"

"What?" _Well, that backfired._

"Lily Luna Potter. Doesn't it sound amazing?"

Ginny laughed. "Alright, it's not as bad as I thought. Let's wait and see who is arriving in a few short months, Lily Luna Potter or James Sirius Potter. Now go," she shooed him away and reached for the spoon. "I need to finish this before Ron and Hermione get here."

With a wink and a kiss on the cheek, he left her to her cooking. A smile forced itself onto her face as she rubbed a hand along her growing belly. "I can't wait to meet you, James."


	5. Fun and Games

**Dear readers, I am sorry that I've not posted anything in a while. I have moved to Vietnam! I've got a new home, a new job, new friends, a new life. It's taken a while to settle in and now that I have some semblance of stability I've started writing again. I will be updating both this story and The Patronus far more regularly than I have in the past. I'm so glad to be back! I hope you enjoy this chapter 3 xx**

* * *

The dinner was as usual, delicious. Ginny always thought that Harry was an easy man to please when it came to cooking for and that night was no different. Even Ron was complimentary, perhaps not in words, but in the way he mopped up the sauce first with the last slice of bread, then with his finger. Conversation flowed, alternating between the politics of the new bill Hermione was able to subsidise Wolfsbane potions and good natured ribbing.

After dinner, Hermione tried to teach Ginny and Ron a muggle game, 'Charades'. Hermione went first to show them how to play. Ginny noted sadly that Harry had heard of the game, but had never played it as a child. He managed to pick it up fairly quickly, and Ginny seemed to understand the clues he was trying to act out.

Ron, on the other hand, was terrible. He could not figure out how to decipher the clues, and got redder and redder the longer they played. A few rounds in Hermione gave Harry a significant look who nodded, and winked at Ginny. She started waving her arms about; a game, one word.

"Oh, so it's got two syllables," Harry said. Hermione touched her nose in agreement.

"Two arm," Ron said. "That doesn't make any sense. How did you get 'syllable' from that?"

"That's how you know how many syllables there are in the word. She's done that twice, so she wants you to think about the second syllable." Hermione touched her nose again, then scratched at her arm.

"Scratch?" Ginny asked. "No, that's not right."

"Itch?" Harry said. Hermione touched her nose.

"So the second part of the word has 'itch' in it?" Ron said slowly.

"Yes," Ginny nodded in time with Hermione.

"But why does she keep touching her nose? Every time I think I'm close and that I've got it, she touches her nose and it throws me off again."

"She's agreeing with you. It means 'you _know_ '."

"Oh," Ron said looking contemplative. "I think I've got this game now. Is she saying she wants to do the first syllable now?"

"Yup."

Hermione reached into her pocket at pulled out a pound coin. She held it in one hand, and pointed urgently at it with the other.

Ginny giggled. She knew what the answer was. "It's a pound. I can't think of a game that's called 'pound-scratch' though.

Harry chuckled. "No, neither can I. But the second syllable was 'itch'. Perhaps she means 'coinitch'?"

Hermione shook her head and looked pointedly at Ron.

"Merlin's beard! She told me a word for muggle money just on the way here."

Hermione nodded vigorously, her curls finally winning the fight against whatever she'd used to tie them down.

Ron stood, excitement getting the better of him. "Erm, erm, a plid? No, that's not right. A quod? A quid? A quid!"

Hermione smiled and waved her arms in a big circle. She then repeated the motions, waving the pound coin then scratching her arm.

"Quidditch! I've got it! The answer is quidditch!" He threw his arms up in the air, fists pumping furiously.

Hermione stepped around the coffee table to where he stood and put her arms around him. "Well done," she said.

Ron lowered his arms around her and kissed her. Ginny rolled her eyes at his overt display. She thought he was sweet, until his hands started traveling elsewhere.

"Ronald!" Hermione slapped away his hands, grinning as she did so.

"Right, company. Sorry," Ron said, not looking remotely apologetic.

Ginny leaned into Harry and asked, "Do you think he celebrates like that after? You know."

"Oi! Ginny!" Ron shouted.

Harry laughed loudly. Hermione blushed and looked around. She began collecting the dirty glasses and coffee mugs onto a tray. "It's time to go, Ron. We shouldn't leave a mess."

Harry stood up and waved her off. "Don't be silly, Hermione. We've got this. A simple wave of the wand can sort this out. Besides, if we don't give Kreacher something to do, he'll be very upset."

She frowned at him, but the mention of the house elf got her to forget her embarrassment.

"It's ok, Hermione," Ron said. "Harry's right, we can do this. Come on, mate." He pulled out his wand and, with a wink at his wife said, "Wingardium leviosa!"

Ginny watched in amusement as Ron and Harry carefully levitated the remains of their drinks from the living room to the kitchen. She stretched luxuriously on the sofa, kicking off her slippers and resting her feet on the coffee table.

Not long now, she thought, till they get swollen and sore.

"Could you ever have imagined them doing anything like this?" said Hermione. "If you had told me a few years ago that this was possible, I wouldn't have believed it."

"Ah, yes! But a few years ago, we didn't have the same reward system in place." Ginny winked suggestively at Hermione, earning herself a gasp and a pillow to the face. "Oi! There'll be no more of that in a few weeks' time! The Chosen One's unborn child must not have objects thrown at it."

"Oh, you are such a filthy woman. And a pillow is hardly going to hurt you, let alone the baby. And I'm fairly sure you were at least 3 weeks pregnant when you were hit with that Bludger in the Arrows match. And four weeks when you made that ridiculous jump from your broom."

Ginny sighed. "I needed to try that move at least once before my career ended."

"More importantly, before Harry found out you were pregnant." Hermione smirked knowingly.

Clumping footsteps announced their husbands' return.

"Who's pregnant?" Ron asked. A suspicious smudge of what appeared to be chocolate had appeared at the side of his mouth.

"Your sister, dear. Or had you already forgotten?" Hermione wiped away the smudge with her thumb and caressed his cheek. "Have you been at the chocolate pudding again?"

"You know I can't help it. I love your pudding."

Ginny snorted.

"What?" Harry sat next to Ginny and tucked her securely into his side.

She leaned her head on his shoulder and said, "Nothing. Everything comment sounds like it has another, filthy meaning to it today. It must be my hormones acting up."

Harry smiled and brought his lips close to her ear. "Want me to get rid of them?"

Ginny lifted her head and turned to face him. She wiggled her eyebrows at him. "You know I do."

He stood up immediately. "Alright, you two. I love you both but you have to leave. Now."

Ron looked confused. "Why?"

Hermione put her arms around him. "I think they might want some alone time."

He shuddered dramatically. "Ugh! I did not need to know that."

"I'm pregnant, you imbecile! How did you think that happened?"

"I think you are right, Hermione love." Ron put his arms around Hermione and started walking towards the fireplace. "It is definitely time to go. No, no! Don't get up we can let ourselves out."

Harry and Ginny made no move to get up. "Goodnight!"

In a flash of green, they disappeared.

Harry and Ginny didn't move for a while, content in each other's warmth. They sat in silence, while the rhythm of their soft breathing started lulling Ginny to sleep, hormones or no hormones.

After a while, Harry stirred and asked, "Gin, why are you with me?"

"Why do you ask?"

Harry sighed. "No reason."

Ginny pulled herself away from him slightly, enough to face him. She put her hands around his neck, her fingers grazing the too-long hairs at the nape of his neck. _He needs a haircut._ "Tell me."

"Well, Ron and I were talking in the kitchen," he said. "He was saying how proud he was of Hermione and the work that she is doing for werewolf rights. Her drive and her need to stand up for others is what he says he needs. That without her he would just stagnate and would never amount to anything."

"That's sweet." Gin said.

He snorted. "Maybe. I think he's needed her for a very long time. He never would have passed any of his exams without her."

"I suppose that's true," Ginny said. "But why are you asking about me?"

"Well after what Ron said, I thought about what Hermione needs. I figured that what she needs is a man who won't mind having an incredibly successful wife who probably makes more money than him. Someone who appreciates her brilliance and her passionate support of the causes she picks up. And most importantly, someone who isn't going to feel insecure about it."

Ginny thought for a moment. Ron certainly would be very proud of her but of all the people she knew, he was most likely to feel insecure. But no, when it came to Hermione, Ron wouldn't get resentful. She still didn't know how to answer Harry's question so she deflected.

"What do you need? Why are you with me?"

"Well that's easy," Harry said. "I need someone who doesn't try to coddle me or treat me special. I want someone who isn't afraid to kick my arse if I need it. And baby," he pressed his lips firmly to hers for a quick kiss. "You are perfect for me."

She laughed. "This is very profound, Mr Potter. Did you really think of this all by yourself?"

He blushed. "You know me too well, Mrs Potter. It was Ron. He said that he thought I needed a strong woman to keep me in hand, and one who wouldn't be threatened by all the…" he trailed off.

"Weirdos? Adoring fans?" Ginny suggested.

"Yeah, them."

They fell silent again while she gathered her thoughts.

"You know I've loved you for a very long time," she began.

He smiled and kissed her temple. "I know. Godric, we were so young when we met."

"We were. And I had no idea what kind of man you would be. But I stayed in love with you because of who you are. I don't mean _the Saviour of Wizarding Britain_ or _the Boy Who Lived_ or any of that nonsense." She paused before carrying on. Harry let her think for a moment, only taking her hand and rubbing circles with his thumb over the top of her hand.

"I mean the kind of man who is inherently good. I knew that you would respect my dreams, my independence. I knew that you would accept and love my family, as weird and different and as poor as we were."

"Of course I do," he said, pulling her back into a hug. "Anyone who wouldn't is a moron and I am thankful every day that I am the lucky guy who got to marry you."

She squeezed him back. "Though, it doesn't hurt that you are a badass hero who saved Wizarding Britain and possibly the whole world from Voldemort."

"Oh really?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Do you like it when I am heroic?"

"Very much," she covered her mouth and giggled in a very un-Ginnylike manner.

He leaned towards her and bit her neck softly. "Can I be your hero, Ginny?"

She groaned loudly and pushed him away. "Dammit, Harry. You've killed the mood."

"What?" he asked, confused.

"That stupid muggle song. By the poncy guy."

"What song? What guy?"

"When dad got mum the muggle radio, she fell in love with a song so she charmed the damned thing to repeat the song over and over again." Ginny cringed. "It was so much worse when she asked Hermione what he looked like. I've never seen so much swooning. And I knew Lavender Brown."

Harry sighed. "I really did kill the mood."

"Yup," said Ginny. "Let's go to bed then. We've both got work in the morning."

He stood up and held out a hand for her. "After you, my love."

She took his hand and they went to bed. They found that the mood wasn't ruined after all.


End file.
